A murder most foul
by TrashMonkey
Summary: An Innocent girl is tied to one of Gotham’s most scandalous murders. This is a tale of money, power and lust. In the end only the strong, or insane, can survive.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Batman and anything to do with Batman belongs to his respectful owners, I own and know nothing.

This story and its original characters belong to me though, thank you very much ;)

Be gentle, its one of my first. (Rated T, just to be safe)

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It all started in the infamous 'ZigZag Jazz Club', on the corner of Trinity and Marvin Street, near the Upper East Side. This translates out roughly as 'one of the ritziest clubs in town and anybody who is anybody knows it.' Okay, maybe it didn't say that out right but that's what you get from the general impression of its location in Gotham. And it can convey all that with its location alone.

When you actually get to the club you are suddenly filled with not only a sense of worthlessness and 'oh-my-god-what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here-ness' but with a mild sense of aw, because once you are admitted into the ZigZag jazz scene you know you have arrived to proverbial Nirvana.

You see, the ZigZag is all about class. For instant's, they only allow the classiest people into the premises of the club without hesitation, while the shmucks outside have to wait in line for hours on end. They make sure all of their staff members are beautiful, young, hip and most importantly, classy.

Their employee's uniforms are chic and constantly updated by only top of the line designers.Prada, Gucci, Louis vuitton, Dolce and Gabbana…you name it, they wear it. The club updates its look every 6 months to make sure it's always fresh and in vogue. But the premise never changes; Jazz music, dancing, gambling, and drinking- which everyone knows will never fall out of style, especially that last one.

The owner of this club is not a man of many words and is in fact noted to say the very least possible; he really just lets his daughter have the run of the place. The owner in question is one Mister Joshua Vermoon, who is around sixty and sunk his entire inheritance into making this club.

But don't feel too bad for the old goat, that money has come back to him at least ten fold in the last decade thanks to his club and bar, so if anything he can die knowing he's one of the richest men in Gotham. This is saying a lot since everywhere you look some billionaire is moving into the city, buying a whole fleet of cars, servants, and a house big enough to sustain its own gravitational orbit.

Now, his daughter on the other hand, is quite the little socialite and spends all her time in daddy's club; drinking, dancing, and rubbing elbows with Gotham's elite. She's the one who makes sure all the hired staff are classy, and that the current look is classy, and that every single little thing about the ZigZag Jazz club is in fact, classy.

She does a fairly good job, since the club has been around for a whole decade, and is still going strong. Dear Miss Vermoon's first name is Saffron, and her mother, the lovely Mrs. Rebecca Vermoon, is deceased. Which I guess is a plus since mothers aren't very classy.

But before I continue with my little story about what soon became the most damn exciting and terrible night of my life, let me tell you, the avid listeners of this tale, about me.

There isn't very much to me in particular, just that I'm 22, single, and work full time as a librarian for Gotham City's First Royal Library. Oh, and my name just happens to be Candace Dubois.

My parents, in all their good willed charm, wanted to make sure that I had an original name because when I was born they were absolutely positive that I would turn out to be a famous artist. Mostly because I kept trying to grab onto the colors on the nursery walls. So they figured I should get a head start and have an artistic name for encouragement.

To bad there has never been a larger misconception in the history of the entire known universe.

When I reached the number grades it became painfully obvious that I was never going to become a famous artist. _Ever._

I liked math and reading, and I didn't mind art or anything, it's just that I've never been any good at it. When I was small I had the excuse of being a kid, so it didn't really matter. But I soon realized that the art world and I were never meant to be.

I wouldn't fully classify myself as nerd during my school years, but I was considered quiet for my age. I enjoyed the normal things in life and experienced very little inside the safe bubble of my home town.

The name of the town I happened to grow up in is Hinickbarry, Florida, but I soon moved to Gotham when I turned 20 and finished my collage education. My parents still reside in quaint little Hinickbarry where I suspect they shall spend the remainder of their days together playing Mahjong.

I had a few close friends and a respectably standard life style, which was all that I could ask for.

Perhaps that's why I moved to Gotham in the first place, though. The calm, quite life, although relaxing, is at times, mind-bogglingly boring. So once school was over I packed up my belongings, said good-bye to age old friends and headed out for adventure. I still can't believe I was stupid enough to go looking for it in Gotham. Crime Central of America.

It seemed like the right choice at the time. Glamorous night life, rich bachelors and jobs a plenty. Why not give it a shot? So out I went searching for my niche in life. I quickly found and leased a small 3 roomed apartment in a petite building in a nice, clean neighborhood. Or at least, as clean as you can get in Gotham.

I un-packed and went job hunting the very next day. I have a Masters in English Composition, so I went out into the world thinking that getting a job would be a snap.

I was so wrong.

Every single company, business, and establishment I went to was either over staffed, under budget, or just not interested. After about a week of solid rejection I was feeling pretty lousy. Maybe big city life wasn't meant for suburbanites like me. Maybe I should give up, go home and get a job at the local book store…and that's about when it hit me.

Of course! The library! Libraries were always understaffed, and with my kind of education how could they refuse!

It was at this point that I rushed home, changed into a respectable cream colored suit and tied my mousy brown hair into a high pony tail. After a quick inspection in a full length mirror I determined that I was ready.

The suit fell nicely over my small, yet present, curves, and complimented my long neck. I didn't wear any make up since I didn't own any and had no idea how to apply the stuff.

I exercised when my schedule allowed it and the result was a willowy, pixie like body which was adequate and blended into a crowd of people nicely.

I strode out the door with resume in hands and head held high, already working on my acceptance speech.

'_Thank you! Oh, thank you so much! I would like to dedicate this job offer to all my friends and family and, to my mother and father for always being there, and to all the little people who helped me get to the top! Thank you all so much!'…_

…

Okay, maybe that was a bit much, and when I think about it, I would most defiantly be fired on the spot if I were to deliver a speech like that. But I smirked none the less. It's healthy to flex your imagination, especially one as dramatic as mine.

I flagged a cab down to get from my little apartment to downtown Gotham. I spent the duration of the car ride practicing yoga breathing, and rehearsing what I would say when asked all the most obvious questions.

_Question one: What is one of your pet peeves?_

_Answer: When books are just thrown willy-nilly with no regard for alphabetical order._

_Question two: What can you contribute to the library?_

_Answer: I'm organized, level headed, and respect all forms of literature._

Oh yes, employment here I come.

The cab jolted to a sudden stop and I was yanked back into reality. I paid his fare and climbed out from the passenger's side, heading straight for the Gotham's First Royal Library.

Gotham's library is a perfect match for the rest of the city. That is to say, it was dark, foreboding, and gothic, like the rest of the architecture here. It had a high domed ceiling with intricate patterns carved into the marble. Portraits of demons and angels, of huge battles and cringing beasts were engraved upon the entire outside expanse of the dome. It's tall and intimidating pillars were matched with dreadful gargoyles, watching people pass by with a strangely knowing gaze.

The front doors of the building were made from pure mahogany and stood out against the white stone dramatically. The steps alone were a personal aerobics session and I found my self out of breath by the time I reached the entrance. Which on closer inspection were a lot larger and more menacing then I had realized from across the street.

I took a deep, calming lungful of air and pushed against the doors with all my might, that is until one particular patron of the library decided that I was taking to long and shoved the door open, knocking me aside in the process. He grunted an apology and hustled on inside.

Huh…jerk.

I scowled and scurried inside before the doors closed in my face. I was in full pissy mode and didn't take in my surroundings until I was a few dozen steps inside the building. I looked up and gazed at what surrounded me, my scowl quickly tuning into a look of utter awe.

Every single book you could possibly ever want to read was right here. It was…over whelming.

The books were housed in huge shelves that almost reached the very top of the ceiling, while the shelves themselves were placed in two rows stretching to the very back wall. There was an upstairs as well, which held little cubicles with a computers and chairs for the general public.

After another moment or two of stunned staring I began to walk through the aisle separating the two main rows of books and headed straight for the main desk. Would you believe they didn't have one of these things in Hinickbarry? Yeah right.

I reached the front desk and gently tapped on the wood to get the attention of the only librarian currently sitting there. She was old, but had dignified air around her. She was wearing an old fashioned, navy blue dress, and her white hair was in a bun, she also smelt vaguely of cinnamon and mint. The woman looked up prudishly from her book and pursed her lips before addressing me.

"Yes? My I help you?" She wasn't cruel or strict like most librarians were, but she did seem slightly miffed that I had interrupted her reading session.

"Um, yes…hi, my name is Candace Dubois and I was wondering if it would be alright to apply here for a job perhaps?" I asked in a rush, forgetting my carefully planned job proposal in the heat of the moment.

She wrinkled her nose and thought about it for a moment "I'd have to check with the head librarian. Do you have a resume?" I quickly handed her the laminated piece of paper which she took briskly and skimmed over, reading about my credits, past jobs and educational status.

"You can read, so that's a plus." Was the only reply I got from the indignant librarian about my resume. She fixed me with her dark brown eyes before speaking again.

"You start Monday, at 6:00 o'clock sharp and the day ends at 8:00 pm. Weekends we close down early at 7:00 o'clock. You get one week vacation a year and dental. We'll discus other benefits later. You'll get paid 12 dollars an hour but only for the hours you work, so the shorter the lunch break the better it is for you." She said all this with out once looking away or even blinking…freaky, I know.

I, on the other hand was stunned into silence. I had gotten the job and answered zero questions, and had yet to even meet the boss. But hey, who was I to complain. I was now officially employed. So naturally I did the first thing that came to mind in such a happy situation. I shouted.

"Really?" I asked animatedly. Several heads turned in my direction and the librarian pursed her lips and told me to hush.

"Now that you are working here I expect you to at least be able to keep your voice down" She whispered.

"Oops, sorry. I just got excited is all" I whispered back. "Is there a boss or a head librarian here?" I inquired; I needed to at least know who I was working for.

The librarian, who I identified as Mrs. Celvic from the little name plate on her desk, just smiled crookedly before picking up her book and reading. "You're looking at her" she stated.

"Oh" was the only witty remark I could come up with.

She smiled this time in earnest and got the feeling that we would get along fine. I kind of liked her already. Amusing, but in her own, psychotic way. I smiled and agreed to meet her on Monday at the alleged time before leaving and beginning the long trip back to my place.

I had to walk the entire back because I had spent all my precious travel funds on that damn taxi. When I arrived home I quickly changed into some sweats and a t-shirt before flopping down on the couch and digging into my pre-heated cup of noodles. I was defiantly living the high life.

The next day I rode the subway to my new job instead of flagging a taxi. Those things are expensive, and until I could get my hands on my first pay check, I needed to be money conscious.

I arrived on time and met Mrs. Celvic at the front desk. She nodded her approval at my conservative attire, a simple black pencil skit and a white blouse, before giving me a tour of the library. She pointed out all the sections I would need to know by heart at the end of the week, and where the break room in the back was. She also showed me the storage facility, which held the libraries impressive collection of first additions under lock and key.

The first day was basically just me watching Mrs. Celvic helping people and getting the feel for the whole librarian vibe. This went on for the first few weeks and after that I was in the full swing of things. I had an apartment, a job, a reasonably large stock of instant noodles, what more could I ask for?

It was on one of these average, inconspicuous days that I happened to meet one Johan Marvis, who to this date still remains one of my most trusted and loyal friends. The way we met, though, gave away no inclination to what this friendship might lead towards. At the time it seemed harmless enough…

I was working the front desk, a.k.a reading a book, when I heard someone clear their voice to get my attention. I looked up and was caught off guard by the staggeringly beautiful girl in front of me. She was blond, young and from the way she carried herself, seemed painfully shy. I put down my book and smiled up at her.

"May I help you?" I asked politely. The girl looked this way and that, like she was getting ready to bolt at any second. "Yes, umm…I was wondering where…the ah…philosophical section of the library is?" She questioned quietly, stuttering over her sentence. I smiled and got up, leading the way through the massive book shelves, weaving this way and that before coming to a stop in front of our extensive philosophical archives.

I turned and smiled at the stunning shy girl, who I imagined must have a hard time being bashful and beautiful all at once. "Do you need any thing else?" I asked. She looked this way and that before nodding her head. "I was wondering if you could help me find these particular books…" She trailed off, while pulling a list of works from her jean pocket.

I took the small piece of paper from her gently, so as to not startle her, and began to collect what she needed.

In the small time it took me to gather the books she needed we got to talking. I found that the girl wasn't just beautiful but also incredibly intelligent. We spoke about philosophy, books, our favorite authors, ice cream, and somehow managed to even get around to talking about our childhoods.

As fate would have it, we became instant best friends. We spent the whole day chatting away about everything you could think of. I felt bad for dominating the conversation a bit, but when I apologized she just shook her head and smiled. Saying she was more then happy to just listen.

It felt good to talk about my new life in Gotham with someone who could relate. For Johan also came from a small town and moved here when she was only 17.

By the end of the day we were laughing and exchanging phone numbers, promising to meet up with one another tomorrow for dinner at some café near her house. We parted ways and when I got home, I changed into my P.J's and cracked open another cup of noodles.

I smiled while I ate; I had missed having a social life since coming to this city, and was glad to have made a friend. A very interesting friend to boot. She was smart, shy, funny, and had an exciting job working as a waitress down at some place called the 'ZigZag Jazz Club'. I wondered if I would get to see it one day…

Thinking back, life was a lot simpler before I heard that place existed…

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Omg review for the love of cheese!

You know you want to ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Another chapter! Joy to the world and all that ;)

Boy, oh boy. I sure don't like Zantac the Barbarian's assumptions.

Disclaimer: Don't own Batman. Just this chick running around Gotham.

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The next day I was a buzz with excitement. I was going out for a real live dinner with my real live friend at an honest to goodness café in Gotham. Can you say pig out? Instant noodles are great and all but God, there _is_ a limit.

I showed up to work at the library earlier then usual, meaning I was stuck outside in the bitter cold waiting for Mrs. Celvic to show up and open the Library doors. Usually the old girl was earlier than me, but I guess I was anxious to start the day. It left me with a few quiet minutes in the cold, still morning air to think.

My mind kept wandering to the dinner plans with Johan. She said she knew a charming little café near where she worked, and I was anxious to see if their club sandwiches were as good as she boasted.

Finally, after a few eons which I had once called minutes, Mrs. Celvic showed up and opened the library. I hustled inside and went straight to the coffee maker in the break room at the back of the library. Coffee really is the drink of the gods.

After a cup of my holy liquid, I decided now was as good a time as any to say hello to Mrs. Celvic, since I had neglected to do so in my pursuit of coffee.

"Hello Mrs. C, how's it hanging?" I asked cheerfully, knowing full well she hated being called 'Mrs. C.' She glared at me from the couch in our break room, reading the latest in a series of murder mysteries she was addicted to, though would never admit it. There was a man and woman embraced heatedly on the cover, their clothes clearly suggesting the content of the novel to be spy related. Who wore matching trench coats and fedoras but spies?

"Fine. And yourself Miss. Dubois?" She said in a fake Louisiana accent. I smirked at her from where I stood in my dark jeans and red turtle neck sweater. We never took our insults seriously, we were only joking after all, and I could tell Mrs. Celvic enjoyed our little jaunts as much as I did.

It was surprising how fast we had warmed up to each other, and how it was getting a little easier to read her moods. At first, she always looked grumpy. But I could see now the subtle differences between grumpy and say…curious or pleased. She had this strict front she put on when addressing patrons at the library; after all, it takes a special kind of scary to produce silence, not screams.

The day went by rather promptly, and I was a little shocked that it was closing time already. We ushered out all the people still reading this or that, telling everyone that we were closing for the night.

"Do you have a later engagement this evening Candace, you seemed a bit distracted today." Commented Mrs. Celvic, vigilant as always.

I grind sheepishly, saying that my new friend Johan and I were going to grab some dinner later tonight, and that it was technically my first ever night out on the town. She nodded and smiled, telling me to bring a coat since it was chilly out. I smiled back and promised I would.

That Mrs. Celvic is one interesting gal. One minute she's hurling insults at me, the next she's telling me to be carefully because it's chilly out. Ah well, such are the mysteries of being old.

"Is it okay if I wait in front of the library for Johan? I told her I'd meet her here." I asked Mrs. Celvic before she started walking down the colossal set of stairs and towards street level. She shrugged and nodded before walking away and disappearing around the corner.

I hugged my puffy winter jacket closer to my frame and snuggled into the woolen scarf my mom had knit for me. The street was bustling with traffic and tired people, whose only thoughts were probably getting home and being warm. I could relate.

I leaned against the cold white pillars of the library, feeling protected while in the vicinity of the intimidating structure. The library was like a safe house for me. Not just the peace and quite it afforded inside, but the building itself. It had character. Those large doors and intricate carvings in the stone of beasts and men. The walls themselves held stories. I looked up at one of the perched gargoyles and smiled. Those eyes which I had once found frightening were now only watchful. They guarded the streets bellow and the books within. I felt wise while I stood there, Gotham stretched out below me. The building seemed like it knew something more than people ever would, just by being here longer then the rest of us. It was a calming feeling.

I wondered how old the library really was, probably ancient.

I glanced up and spotted Johan weaving treacherously through the traffic. Crazy girl, hasn't anyone here ever heard of cross walks? That's city folk for you. I smiled while I bounded down the stairs and met Johan at the bottom.

"You are going to die in a horrible car accident if you don't watch where you're going" I remarked joyfully, while hugging Johan for a brief moment.

"Oh well, I've lived a long life. No regrets and all that" She chirped back. We both shared a brief chuckle before making our way down the street towards the café for dinner. "If I see one more cup of instant noodles I think I'll go insane. This joint better have a decent quiche or I'm sticking you with the bill" I complained loudly while Johan laughed at my crud remarks.

"Have no fear; the spinach quiche is to die for. And you'll like it there, it's quiet just like your little library" She teased slightly. We both knew the Gotham library was anything _but_little. I snorted sarcastically before answering back. "And here I was looking forward to my night on the town. I thought you were going to take me someplace more exciting. Like where you work, not some musty old café"

Johan giggled before we turned the corner and pointed out our designated eating establishment. It was neat and…almost homey compared to its dark surroundings. It looked like someone had teleported it right out from my hometown. The outside was painted light yellow over the brick, and in the window I could see a few couples and patrons talking and eating. The green sign hanging over the little restaurant announced it as 'The box'.

I laughed out loud at the name. "Classy." I remarked as we walked across the street and right into the entrance. It smelt like cinnamon and cookie dough, a strange, but pleasant scent. The inside was painted the same shade of pale yellow, and there were charismatic little photographs all over the walls. Wooden tables and mismatched padded chairs were placed over white tile flooring.

"Huh, not totally a dive after all…" I said, while casually flipping my hair. I got titter out of Johan before she elbowed me softly in the ribs. "Be nice." She whispered. "I know the owners."

Just then an elderly woman in her late forties stepped up with two menus in hand. She smiled warmly at me and Johan before speaking in a soft and kind voice. "Johan, how lovely to see you again. It's been to long. Who's your little friend?"

I blinked but smiled. I hadn't been called someone's "little friend" in awhile. I didn't mind though, the woman's voice was so welcoming and the odor of the food from surrounding tables was tantalizing my nose. My stomach made its presence known and I thought I had stepped right back into Hinickbarry.

Johan smiled back before introducing me. "Sarah, this is Candace, she's new in Gotham and I'm showing her around. And I thought what better place to show her then here! Your Coffee is the best in town" She said enthusiastically. I realized that once you got around to knowing Johan she really wasn't as shy as she seemed to be. It just takes a little trust before she warms up to you.

The woman smiled and shook my hand before leading us away to a private booth, leaving us with some menus.

"So!" I said, deciding to get the ball rolling, "Tell me more about your _fabulous_ work. Are the rumors true? Do you really get to keep all those designer uniforms once their out of style?"

Johan snorted and shook her head, sipping at the glass of water Sarah had brought. "Nope, they have to be returned right after, Mr. Vermoon is as cheap as they come. All uniforms have to be returned and dry cleaned." She rolled her eyes and with expert timing Sarah came to take our order. We both went for the spinach quiches.

I smiled when we were alone again "Oh boo-hoo, at least you get snazzy uniforms. Mrs. Celvic isn't exactly winning an award for best dressed." We chuckled quietly and lapsed into a contented silence. When I looked up from my origami napkin creation I noticed Jonah giving me a strange look. I quirked my eyebrow in question but she just shrugged her shoulders, smiling secretively.

"I don't like the way you just eyed me up like a piece of meat, what's going on in that diabolical head of yours?" I asked my sly friend as our quiches arrived and we began to dig into our food.

"Weeeellll….since you did ask. I was wondering if you were free this weekend" Johan arched a well shaped eyebrow in my general direction.

"Yeah, why? What's happening this weekend?" I should have known to keep my mouth shut. Never give that woman the incentive to answer!

She grinned around a mouthful of food, swallowing quickly before responding. "Great! Then I hear by invite you to the Zig-Zag club on Saturday evening! It'll be so snazzy! A bunch of big-wigs are coming in to celebrate Miss. Vermoon's birthday. Saffron is inviting all of Gotham's elite." She was gushing and I felt my stomach clench with nerves. But already I could see several flaws in her plan.

"First, thank you for the invite. Second, I can't go. Not only do I not own anything even remotely formal enough to attended I'm pretty sure I won't be on the guest list. Also, with all those hot shots milling about security will be tight, so sneaking me in won't be as easy as you seem to imply. I should also point out that I'm scared shitless of crowds of big important people who could crush me and my career and the careers of everyone in my building if they should choose so. In conclusion, I'm not going." I took a bite of quiche and smiled.

Johan looked a bit miffed, and if I may be so bold, a bit impressed too. Ha! Smarty pants hadn't expected that.

I probably shouldn't have given her such a big challenge. She's the sort of person who would beat her head against a brick wall, get a concussion, and then come back for round two, still in bandages. Determined I guess you could call it.

The she fixed me with those baby blue eyes of her and I saw my doom in their depths.

I nearly curled into the fetal position.

It took her only a minute. I swear. We were eating our quiches and just as I thought I had won she spoke up, plan already formulated. How she came up with this plot in so short a time is still unknown. Maybe she had come up with it before? I don't know. I probably never will. In the end, I guess some would say it's my fault. If I had lied and said I had something to do that night she might have left it alone. As it was, I had just presented her with a big, fat brick wall. And she would be damned if she wasn't going to beat her head against it. "Oh, you don't need to worry about any of that. I'll take care of everything. In fact, I think I even have a dress that'll fit you. Be ready at the steps of the library after work on Saturday at 8:00pm. You are so going."

I shook my head. A little unnerved at how convinced she sounded, but I was positive it wasn't going to work…

….

A pox on all brick walls and Johan's big stupid concrete head.

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